


Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World

by anupturnedboat



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Complicated Relationships, End of the World, F/F, Gen, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anupturnedboat/pseuds/anupturnedboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World ~ Christopher Columbus</p>
<p>This is a new world now anyway. Hadn’t someone smarter like Wells or Jasper said that once?</p>
<p>Post Season 1 Finale Drabble</p>
<p>Finn Collins</p>
            </blockquote>





	Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World

The inside of the earth’s core is hotter than the surface of the sun.

It is one of those strange nuggets of knowledge that sticks in the brain, especially now, the firmly packed earth below him and fire in the sky above.

Under is molten iron, he thinks, –a boiling tide creating an omnipotent magnetic field that hums indiscriminately against the bones of all life on this planet. Whether grounder, or refugee -although the lines between the two are becoming so blurry.

This is a new world now anyway. Hadn’t someone smarter like Wells or Jasper said that once?

Here, he is a different Finn Collins – no longer the version that is just a teenage fuck up. This Finn is one who might die in the dirt tonight for those he cares about. And surprisingly, he can live with that.

Finn doesn’t remember how hot jet fuel burns. Raven was the one interested in those kinds of things, but the blowback from the explosion is a violent searing swell that rushes over him. He coughs blood into the dirt. The air is charred and pungent; and as usual, Raven is a genius.

_Raven_. He remembers shoving the coagulant into Clarke’s hand. Raven was going to be fine, banged up, but fine. Clarke would have made sure of it. Still, he needs to know.

He rolls over, braces himself. Pain shoots up his side, steals his breath, and makes his chest tight.

_Broken rib, maybe a collapsed lung_ , he thinks, in Clarke’s voice - which is weird, but comforting.

_It could be worse; at least I am not a crispy critter_ he replies to inner voice Clarke.

He waits for a reluctant smile, or her firm grip, reassuring and capable. His heart is poised to beat out that erratic rhythm that is all adrenaline, and adoration.

But there is no smile, no hand on his shoulder. No Clarke at all, and he is coughing again, gasping for air until everything goes dark.

The next time he opens his eyes, the air is cooler. His fingers find green, covered in dew.

“They’re all gone.”

He feels like shit, it hurts to breathe, and his head is throbbing.

He rolls his head to the side. Bellamy is black from head to toe, and carving a spear using a broken knife.

“And Lincoln took Octavia. I don’t know where.”

“What do you mean they’re all gone?” he rasps out.

Bellamy looks at him like he is going to test out the sharpness of the spear in his hand.

“When I got back here, the hatch was open. But all I found was you.”


End file.
